


Blood Trail

by CharmmyColour



Category: Milo Murphy's Law
Genre: Abandonment, Angst and Tragedy, Anisocoria, Based on a Tumblr Post, Blood Loss, Blood and Injury, Character Death, Dark Past, Drama, Established Relationship, Fear, Gang Violence, Gun Violence, Gunshot Wounds, Italian Mafia, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mission Fic, Murder, Organized Crime, Psychological Trauma, Punching, Rage, Rain, Sad Ending, Weapons, anger issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:40:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28186272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharmmyColour/pseuds/CharmmyColour
Summary: “Lucky me,” Dakota turns around, his voice hollow. “I don’t have that problem.”Two shots later, there are two corpses on the floor. Dakota went for their heads.
Relationships: Balthazar Cavendish/Vinnie Dakota
Comments: 7
Kudos: 30
Collections: Team Cavota





	Blood Trail

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LonelyLittleShips](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LonelyLittleShips/gifts).



> The talented and wonderful LonelyLittleShips (username both on Ao3 and Tumblr) was sharing their fantastic art with us on a server when they showed a very interesting pic of Dakota and Cavendish running away, covered in blood. I was immediately inspired to create a narrative in my head about it! Though I would usually don't indulge in this, say, more edgy works; I was encouraged to write it, so... now it's out to the world to judge. Yeah, it didn't need to be that dark, but that was just what came to mind at the moment.
> 
> Lonely, of course, has the credit for the art that will appear on the fic and the original idea and scene that inspired everything else! You should check their work too, it's super super good! You won't regret it.
> 
> Likewise, thanks to the Team Cavota server for being my betas and tell me to write it in the first place!
> 
> To my readers that like my fluff: I'm sorry.

They definitely shouldn’t be here.

Admittedly, Dakota didn’t plan this one well. Usually, Cavendish is too focused on their goal to notice any red flag on their way, and Dakota has grown to accept his role is making sure they don’t run directly into the lion’s den at any given moment. Most of the time, that involves distracting or annoying Cavendish long enough for him to stop focusing on the target, which Dakota then takes advantage of to make sure they are safe. Cavendish doesn’t know Dakota has rewritten the timeline about a hundred of times at this point to save his life, after all, and it’s important it stays this way. His rigorous partner would for sure demand him to stop breaking the rules, and Dakota had no intention to do so. Rules or not, Cavendish is Cavendish, and he is staying alive.

Even more now, somehow, Dakota has coerced him into a romantic relationship.

“What are we going to do?” Cavendish bites his knuckles, worry evident in his eyes. His words are barely a whisper, but it’s the loudest volume they can afford to use at the moment, hiding behind a bunch of boxes in a dark warehouse. Dakota wants to hug him and say everything is going to be alright, but he doesn’t like lying.

The first red flag had to be that their latest pistachio assignment included so few details. It was not the first time Cavendish and Dakota had to protect a truck full of the green nut, or move its content from one point to another. Most of the time, however, instructions were incredibly precise about what exactly they needed to do, and their failures were not a result of lacking the specific details. Who knows what happened that time; maybe the person usually in charge of writing the assignments was ill, maybe it was just a little mistake. Maybe the universe really hated them. But the reason was not what concerned Dakota, only the consequences.

They had arrived at the assigned point and found two pistachio trucks and, in what now Dakota realized was a terrible mistake, they didn’t call BoTT to ask for clarifications. Assuming both vehicles to be identical, they took one of the trucks and stole it to deliver the content to the safe warehouse on the map. They have done similar missions countless times before. The goal (even if it would be probably screwed by some freaky accident) was simple enough.

There was no freaky accident this time. They were almost done when something a lot worse happened.

Dakota was faster to register the sound of cars and weapons than Cavendish was. He took his boyfriend by the wrist and forced him into the darkness, just in time for them to get out of the line of sight of the four armed men that entered the warehouse with guns on their hands. Unfortunately, Dakota didn’t think of covering Cavendish’s mouth, and the Brit was caught so off-guard by the sudden movement that he yelped. Loudly.

“I hear them, boss!” One of the men hissed. Cavendish, who was only registering the situation then, curled himself in the dark with Dakota.

“Good. You can stop hiding, you miserable rats!” The man that looked like the boss yelled. For the looks of it, a Mafia boss. Oh crap, what did they run into? “Very brave of you to steal our shipment in broad daylight, but we have eyes everywhere. You are dead.”

He looked absolutely confident in his words, and the calm tone didn’t match the panic expression in both the time travelers’ faces at all, who didn’t quite understand what was happening. One of the henchmen opened the back of the truck and it suddenly all made sense: the vehicle was a cover. Those were not pistachios.

Dakota and Cavendish had just stolen a truck full of armament. From the Mafia.

They are almost glued to each other behind the boxes, praying not to be found, as two of the henchmen look around for their presence. Their hiding is not complex, they will run out of time soon. Dakota looks at Cavendish and it pierces through his heart how clearly terrified and overwhelmed he is. Even if they get away alive from this one, it’s not going to be pretty.

“The door is not far,” Dakota whispers. “Maybe we can reach it.”

Cavendish nods and looks around. He is looking for something, Dakota can tell, but is not sure what. His attention is on the door and how to get there in time. He gets distracted when he notices Cavendish is patting him in the shoulder and furiously pointing at his left pocket.

“Flashlight?” Dakota tries, and Cavendish nods. He takes the flashlight from his pocket and stares at his partner, puzzled, as the Brit takes off his hat.

Cavendish takes the goggles off the hat, and Dakota suddenly understands. Fleeing like they were forced to from their previous position, they had left their map behind, which is now resting on the floor next to the truck. It’s a decently-sized piece of paper, and their only chance at the moment. Cavendish turns the flashlight on through the glass of the goggles and a thinner, much more concentrated beam of light hits the map directly. They are lucky this time: none of the men notices.

And it works. A small fire ignites in the paper and a faint smell of smoke starts to manifest over the room. Dakota silently cheers to himself. Even when overwhelmed, Cavendish always has these practical ideas using the resources around them. He’s more of an improvising guy.

“Does smell like…?” One of the men trails off. He soon spots the cause. “Oh, shit! Fire!”

“What the hell do you mean, ‘fire’?” The underboss snaps. Seeing the statement is true (even if it’s a very small one), he groans. “Just step on it, it’s barely nothing!”

“Yes, sir!” A couple men rush to extinguish the fire, more out of poor coordination than because the action needs two people. The third henchman is away at the moment, looking for the thieves in another part of the building. Their boss is resting against their car.

And Dakota has an idea. A very risky one.

“Run!” He hisses to Cavendish, and let’s him believe he will be just behind him. The Brit does so, scrambling away to the door, looking like a very scared deer fleeing from hunters.

Instead, Dakota jumps the other way and has just enough time to get inside the truck before the entire mob becomes aware of his presence. One of them tries to shoot him, but his partner pushes his weapon away, making it hit the ceiling instead.

“Are you crazy?!” He yells. “If you hit the shipment, this entire place is going to blow into pieces!”

“Lucky me,” Dakota turns around, his voice hollow. “I don’t have that problem.”

Two shots later, there are two corpses on the floor. Dakota went for their heads.

Cavendish is looking at him from the other side of the building. He never reached the door. His face is unreadable, mostly pure shock; but Dakota figures that’s fair enough. Cavendish had never seen him kill another person, even less two, with the precision and lack of hesitation of a professional. However, their chances to actually get to the door unharmed were very slim, so it was all Dakota could think of. He can always fix it later.

He prefers not to reach that point.

Another shot is heard, but this one is not coming from his gun. Dakota’s eyes widen at the same time as Cavendish's, as they both slowly register the blood coming from the latter’s leg. Dakota didn’t remember there was a third minion. Fuck.

The boss tries to point at him with his own gun, but Vinnie is faster and shoots him in the hand, making the weapon fall to the floor. He doesn’t kill him, not yet. He needs him.

“Hey!” Dakota yells, his words clearly intended for the man he cannot see yet. He points his gun directly to the underboss’ head and gets out of the truck. “Try that again and your boss here is dead, _cappicci_?”

Dakota doesn’t like his own icy tone. He would rather forget he is capable of using it.

A quick glance to Cavendish confirms he’s still completely frozen in place, his legs slowly giving up. He looks so scared. Dakota figures what is scaring him now is no longer the other people in the building. He can’t really blame him for that.

The third henchman comes out of the shadows, pointing his gun at him. Dakota doesn’t flinch, his weapon still focused completely on the boss in front of him. Neither men look scared; in fact, the underboss sports such a condescending grin that is all Vinnie needs to understand he doesn’t have any winning hand. Even if one of them doesn’t have any weapon, they are still two, and far better prepared than him.

“Come on, son,” the underboss smiles smugly. “How are you going to explain to the police you stole a truck full of guns and killed four men? You know my boy will shoot you before you can kill me.”

“So far, he hasn’t tried,” Dakota growls, but he knows he’s right. He cannot stop pointing the gun at the boss, and that is giving the henchmen a free pass to sneak behind him without being seen. It’s only a matter of time before something smashes the Italian’s heads or his chest gets pierced by a bullet. Dakota only wishes the whole situation is giving Cavendish enough time to get out of the building.

“A nice _ragazzo_ like you. You hate it. I can see it in your eyes,” the boss teases, and Dakota grits his teeth. “Oh, but it’s not a new feeling, isn’t it? What did you do?”

Dakota switches the weight from one feet to another, uneasy. He glances again to the door. Cavendish is gone.

“Is this about that lanky-looking man? What a disappointment;” he looks at Dakota straight into the eyes, easily reading the fear in them despite the sunglasses. “What is that? Oh, is not something you did. Is something you fear,” the man grins. Dakota gulps. “You fear he will see you like a monster.”

Vinnie can feel the presence of the other man behind him. This is it. He has no way to win this battle.

“Well, we can fix that,” the boss grins, and Dakota waits for the sound of the bullet.

And a sound is heard, but it’s not what he expects. Instead of a loud shot, the noise is more like a heavy object smashing someone’s skull. The brunette only has a frantic second to look back and find Cavendish standing there with a brick on his hands and the unconscious body of the henchman (though probably alive, there isn’t any blood); before the underboss jumps over him and starts fighting for his weapon, both scrambling into the floor frantically.

Cavendish doesn’t know what to do. He looks like he has seen a ghost, pale as a sheet. He tries to aid the fight (at least, is the intention Dakota figures he had in mind), but his leg is still bleeding furiously and he falls instead with a loud thump.

“Cav!” Dakota cries, but the distraction is enough for the boss to turn the tables to his favor. He successfully takes the weapon away from the brunette’s hands and takes Cavendish by the neck between his other arm, pointing the gun directly at his temple. Cavendish yelps miserably.

“Now! You don’t want your friend to get hurt, don’t you?” the man asks, and he sounds so smug it makes Dakota’s blood boil. The underboss keeps the gun well pressed against Cavendish’s head.

Nonetheless, Dakota looks at the floor and raises his hands in defeat.

“Good boy,” the boss mutters. “Now you are going to help me get into the car, call my men and end this situation once for all.”

“Don’t do it, Vinnie!” Cavendish whimpers. Dakota jerks at the sound, usually his partner becomes completely mute under this amount of stress. “We can’t let these evil people win. They are dangerous!”

“Shut up!” The man hisses, pressing his gun again into the Brit’s temple. Cavendish whimpers again, crying uncontrollably, but doesn’t obey.

“No! Vinnie, listen to me. I am sorry. If there’s a chance you can get out of here if he kills me, take it. I am so, so sorry. I lo-”

He doesn’t end his sentence before, accompanied with another furious “SHUT UP!”, the underboss hits him in the head with the gun, making blood pour. Cavendish goes limp.

And Dakota sees red.

Jumping over someone with a gun is not a good idea, but at that moment Vinnie can’t care less. All he wants is making the man in front of him experience the worst pain imaginable. The Mafia boss wasn’t expecting such a move and tries to shoot, but the bullet ends up lost in the dark. Dakota soon has him pinned against the floor, and the moment the man stares at the brunette’s eyes, is the moment he realizes he has fucked up.

Dakota takes the gun from him, but doesn’t use it. No, it would be far too quick and far too painless for what he wants him to experience. He tosses the weapon away and focuses his gaze on the man under him. His sunglasses have fallen and his eyes are, for a lack of a better term, broken. Two different sized pupils doesn’t make them look less blood-driven.

Dakota punches the man. And punches, and punches, and punches. He is using all the force his rage is able to convey, hitting everything except the vital organs. No, he wants the man to be alive now, to scream, to cry, to suffer; to be in the worst pain possible. Blood splashes on Vinnie’s hands. Blood splatters on Vinnie’s chest. He doesn’t stop.

He doesn’t stop even when the man is just a bloody mess under him.

He doesn’t stop even long after he’s dead.

Dakota keeps punching, and punching, and punching. Blood is all he sees and blood is all he wants.

Until...

“Vinnie…” Cavendish. That’s Cavendish’s voice.

“Bal!” Dakota snaps out of his murderous episode, turning around immediately to crawl next to his partner, putting his glasses back. “Oh fuck, Bal, I’m sorry! Are you okay? Shit, I'm so sorry!”

“I’m fine…” Cavendish mumbles, touching his temple and letting Dakota cradle him between his arms. “My head hurts a little. I won’t be able to walk, I’m afraid, but…”

“Yeah?”

“I’m scared…” he looks away.

Dakota wants to ask if he’s scared of him, but he hears the sound of tires coming from outside. Fuck again. It’s either more men from the Mafia or the police, and neither option is a good one. The Italian curses under his breath and takes Cavendish as quick as he can, placing him into his back. Time for an old-fashioned piggyback-ride.

Dakota is not even scared at this point. He doesn’t even know if he’s angry. He just mostly irritated, annoyed that everything seems to be against them today. But he’s also stubborn, and he hasn’t created an Island full of his own doppelgangers to keep Cavendish alive to give up now. So he runs, and growls, and focuses on what matters.

“Dakota, darling…” Cavendish whimpers, looking back. He’s talking about the sound of the steps getting closer. Dakota doesn’t care who the people coming is, only to not be there once they arrive.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m hurryin’,” he growls. At least Cavendish is calling him by his surname again. That's a good sign.

It’s adrenaline, Dakota is sure, the only thing that allows him to run away a decent distance. He wasn’t hurt in the event, per se, but as much as Cavendish is light as a feather, Dakota can only run so much. It doesn’t take long until he has to start walking.

It’s raining now, which is washing their blood trail away. Good.

“I feel drowsy…” Cavendish says faintly.

“Don’t you DARE fall asleep!” Dakota snaps. “We’ll reach the time car soon enough, if no one stops us.”

“If someone tries… will you…?”

Cavendish does not finish the sentence. He never had the intention to. The implication is clear enough.

“Cav, what you saw today…” Dakota tries to clear up, but he’s absolutely not in the mood to explain this right now. “Can we not obsess over it?”

“Oh… of course,” Cavendish whispers, and oh Dakota knows it’s a lie, it’s absolutely a lie. Cavendish is not going to forget.

They continue in silence. Cavendish is bleeding a lot. At this rate, he’s not going to make it.

“Hey, hold on,” Dakota stops in an alley and helps Cavendish down, sitting him on the floor. “We need to patch that a little.”

“Patch what?” The Brit’s eyes are glassy.

“It’s worse than I thought,” Dakota hisses. He takes off his jacket and ties it tightly around the deep injury in some attempt to stop the blood from pouring. There’s only one hole, so the bullet is still inside. They can’t go to the hospital and their car is still some streets away. “I know it hurts, don’t move.”

Cavendish exhales a sharp breath and takes Dakota’s hand. His hair is falling over his face due to the rain. He whimpers again, so pale his skin looks translucent.

“Back there…” he whispers weakly. “I wanted to say that I love you.”

“I know. Me too.”

“But I was… afraid and… I don’t know…”

“Shush shush, is gonna be okay, eh?” Dakota smiles. He doesn’t believe himself.

“Can we rest for a minute, though? I don’t feel well…” Cavendish trails off.

“Of course,” Dakota gets closer and kisses his partner gently on the lips, letting the rain soak their skin, treasuring every second of the experience like this is their last kiss.

Because it is.

“Don’t leave me alone, please,” Cavendish pleads with a soft cry. “Promise you will stay with me. Please. Promise me you will stay at my side…”

“I promise.”

Cavendish closes his eyes, and Dakota holds his hand until it goes limp. Balthazar is still breathing, but he doesn’t have more time. Their chasers will catch them soon.

Dakota gets up and silently walks away, leaving the body of his partner behind. He doesn’t look back once.

Had he done so, he would have seen the pain in Cavendish’s eyes as he watched him leave.

The run to the time car is easier now. Faster. A guilty part of Dakota thinks it’s good Cavendish is dead: now he has a good excuse to rewind time so he never has to know about Dakota’s darkest side. Vinnie wonders briefly, even if he had survived…

Oh, it doesn’t matter now. Not anymore.

This time, he makes sure they take the other truck.


End file.
